He grabbed his bathrobe from the hook behind the bathroom door and padded down to JJ’s room. Even in the darkness, Jack could appreciate the nursery’s over-the-top décor, thanks to his mother-in-law, Dorothy Montgomery, who’d pulled out all the stops for the grandchild she’d worried she’d never have.

The baby’s room was gently lit by several night-lights at baseboard level. Hesitantly, Jack approached the white eyelet-swathed bassinet. The last thing he wanted to do was wake the baby. Getting him back to sleep after the last feeding had been a struggle. With little of the night-lights’ illumination reaching into the depths of the bassinet, Jack couldn’t see much. The baby was on his back, hands splayed out to the sides at forty-five-degree angles. His fingers were clenched over each thumb. Some light glinted off the child’s forehead. His eyes were lost in shadow, but Jack knew that beneath them were dark circles, one of the early symptoms of his problem. The dark skin had developed slowly over a period of weeks, and neither Jack nor Laurie had really noticed it. It was Dorothy who’d brought it to their attention. Other symptoms gradually made their presence known. What was initially termed “fussiness” by the unsuspecting pediatrician rapidly developed into sleepless nights for the entire Stapleton household.

When the diagnosis was finally made, Jack felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him, as if he’d been hit in the stomach with a baseball bat. The blood drained from his brain so dramatically that he’d had to grasp the arms of the chair he’d been sitting in to keep from falling to the floor. All his worst anxieties came true. His fear of a curse on his loved ones, particularly children, was alive and well. John Junior had been diagnosed with neuroblastoma, a disease responsible for fifteen percent of cancer deaths in children. Even worse, the cancer had widely metastasized, the malignancy spreading throughout JJ’s body and into his bones and central nervous system. John Junior had what was termed high-risk neuroblastoma, the worst kind.

The next months had been pure hell for the new parents as the diagnosis grew more dire and a treatment plan was determined. Luckily for John Junior, Laurie had remained remarkably clear-headed during that time, particularly those first few crucial days, while Jack struggled to keep from falling into the same emotional and mental abyss he had years earlier. Knowing that John Junior and Laurie really needed him had saved the day. With great effort Jack fought off the overwhelming guilt and anger and was able to be a reasonably positive force.

It had not been easy, but the Stapletons were fortunate to be referred to the neuroblastoma program at the Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center, where they quickly came to rely on the professionalism, experience, and empathy of the talented staff. Over a several-month period, JJ underwent multiple courses of individualized chemotherapy, each requiring hospital admission, for troublesome side effects. When the chemotherapy had achieved what they thought was the desired result, JJ was started on a relatively new and promising treatment involving the intravenous injection of a mouse-generated monoclonal antibody to the neuroblastoma cells. The antibody, called 3F8, sought out the cancer cells and helped the patient’s immune system destroy them. At least that was the theory.